


Blood-Soaked Love

by wilddragonflying



Category: POKEMON Detective Pikachu (2019)
Genre: (Hideo coughing up/pulling out a flower from his mouth/throat), Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, graphic depictions of gore, idk i'm Camp Hideo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: Hideo wouldn't have even noticed the first petal if Snubbull hadn't whined after his coughing fit. He'd felt under the weather for a while now, but had just chalked it up to the cold rainy weather Ryme City had been experiencing for the past two weeks and his immune system not being as good as it had been.But when Snubbull whines... It's automatic, checking what has distressed his Pokemon. It's completely surprising to realize that Snubbull has found a bloody rose petal on the floor. Hideo freezes, mind screeching to a halt as he tries to reconcile what he's seeing with what he knows it must mean.
Relationships: Harry Goodman/Hide Yoshida
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Blood-Soaked Love

Hideo wouldn't have even noticed the first petal if Snubbull hadn't whined after his coughing fit. He'd felt under the weather for a while now, but had just chalked it up to the cold rainy weather Ryme City had been experiencing for the past two weeks and his immune system not being as good as it had been.

But when Snubbull whines... It's automatic, checking what has distressed his Pokemon. It's completely surprising to realize that Snubbull has found a bloody rose petal on the floor. Hideo freezes, mind screeching to a halt as he tries to reconcile what he's seeing with what he knows it must mean.

He's in love. Or at the very least, he’s well on his way to it.

It doesn't take him very long to realize who he's falling for-who he'd thought about just before his coughing fit.

One of Ryme City's newest detectives, one of Hideo's _own men._

Harry Goodman. 

The blood and new petal in his throat has nothing to do with the way Hideo abruptly feels sick to his stomach. Not only is Harry one of his detectives, he's still clearly in mourning for his wife. Hideo has no business feeling this way, and even less telling Hany how he feels.

And so, the same hour that Hideo Yoshida finds out that he is dying, he accepts the fact that he is unlikely to ever experience the cure. Even _if_ Harry were to accept his affections, that is not a burden that Hideo would ever put on one of his men.

* * *

After the whole catastrophe with Harry’s supposed death and Howard Clifford’s plot to merge Pokemon and people, Hideo isn’t surprised when Tim applies to Ryme City’s detective force. He’d be glad to have Harry’s son on his force, and helps Tim through the application process. It goes smoothly, until the very last meeting before Tim starts at the Academy. His application has been accepted, Hideo has just given him the news - and then he feels a telltale prick at the back of his throat. He coughs, just once, hoping that will be enough to stave it off - but this isn’t just a petal, it’s an entire flower, stem and all.

Tim shouts in alarm, coming around the desk to support Hideo as he’s wracked with coughs, one hand wrapped around Hideo’s bicep, his other gripping the opposite shoulder, keeping Hideo from falling out of his chair as Snubbull and Cubone watch with large, worried eyes, Snubbull resting one paw on Cubone’s head when the latter whines anxiously.

“ _Shit,_ ” Tim breathes when Hideo finally pulls the rose from his mouth, blood covering the petals and dripping to the carpet. “That’s - Lieutenant, how long have you had Hanahaki?”

“A while,” Hideo rasps. “Can you - my water bottle, please.” Tim carefully releases his hold on Hideo, hesitating for a moment before reaching for the water bottle that Hideo requested. He takes his time, taking small sips and letting the cool water soothe his raw throat before he tries to speak again. “Close to ten years, now,” he elaborates on a sigh when he catches sight of Tim’s worried expression. “And only recently gotten worse. I’ve made my peace with it, Tim. Don’t worry about an old man’s heart.”

Tim’s expression is mulish, almost a perfect reflection of Harry’s, and Hideo can’t help but smile at the sight of it. “No one deserves a strangled heart, Lieutenant. Surely you know how - “

“I do. But I also know that it would not be right to burden the object of my affections with them. He deserves a better life than what I can offer him. This is my choice, Tim; it’s not about what I deserve.”

Tim still doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t say anything more about the subject for now. Hideo’s spent enough time with Harry to know better than to think that he’s dropped it entirely, but he takes the reprieve nonetheless.

* * *

Snubbull growls approximately two seconds before there’s a knock on Hideo’s apartment door, in a lull of coughing. By the time he reaches the door, he’s coughing again, and he waits until he’s folded another rose bloom into a bloody tissue and tossed it into the trash to open the door. 

“Harry,” he sighs, opening the door fully. “What can I do for you?”

“Tim said you coughed up a whole flower the other day,” Harry says, gaze sharp as he studies Hideo. “And you’ve been coughing more at the office. And you missed a spot.”

Hideo rolls his eyes, grabbing another tissue from the stand by the door and wiping at his mouth. “There’s no question he’s your son,” he mutters, stepping away from the door. “You might as well come in, Harry.”

Snubbull and Pikachu share a brief greeting as Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him and shrugging off his coat and scarf. “Hideo, seriously. Hanahaki is nothing to sneeze at - “

“I’ve gotten eight years more than I thought I would with it,” Hideo interrupts, abruptly tired. “I made my peace with my fate the day I coughed up the first petal, and it hasn’t gotten worse until recently. I appreciate the concern, Harry, from you and Tim both, but put those detective minds to rest. There’s no mystery to solve here.”

“Yes, there is,” Harry insists, stepping closer and frowning when Hideo turns away, moving into the kitchen and busying himself with the kettle. “Who is it, Hideo? Why haven’t you told them?”

“As I told Tim, it would not be right to burden the object of my affections with my attention,” Hideo says wearily, the words sounding like the mantra he’s made them over the past months. “He deserves a better life than what I can offer.”

“But if he can _save your life_ \- “

“ _Enough,_ Detective Goodman!” Hideo snaps. “The matter is closed, as far as I am concerned, and I’ll ask you not to bother me about it.”

Harry reels like Hideo struck him, and he has to force his posture to stay straight, even as he feels the vines about his heart _tighten._ From the corner of his eye, Hideo can see Pikachu and Snubbull watching the two of them anxiously, and he’s almost managed to convince his body to relax when Harry speaks. “You’ve called me that more in the past six months than you have in the past six _years,_ ” he says quietly, holding Hideo’s gaze like a challenge. “And you’ve only been pulling away from me, _Lieutenant._ ” Hurt flashes across his gaze, echoed in Hideo’s own chest. “I would’ve thought our friendship deserved better.”

With that, Harry turns on his heel and marches back to the door, opening it and waiting only long enough for Pikachu to jump to his shoulder before he walks through. It would hurt less if he slammed the door, but of the two of them… 

Well, Harry’s always been the better man.

* * *

Things are strained between them at the precinct over the next several days, to the point where even the other detectives approach Hideo with _genuine_ concern, asking if the two of them had had a falling out. Each conversation only serves to make things even more strained, until the only way that Hideo knows that Harry’s come in to work is Pikachu stopping by his office to say hello to Snubbull during the rare moments that his office door is open.

He’s started coughing more frequently, his trash filled with more and more bloody tissues and blossoms. Hideo knows that his time is dwindling fast now, and he wants to find some way to make things right with Harry, but - 

A knock on his office door disrupts his thoughts, and Hideo clears his throat before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens to reveal Tim, Cubone following at his heels as Tim slips into Hideo’s office, the both of them unusually solemn. “Lieutenant,” Tim says respectfully, sliding into the chair in front of Hideo’s desk. “Can I - I was wondering if I could speak to you. About something personal.”

Hideo blinks. “Of course, Tim. What can I do for you?”

Tim reaches into his pocket, pulls out a baggy, and places it on Hideo’s desk, sliding it closer. “Do you recognize this?”

Hideo frowns, gaze sliding to his desk - and when he realizes what he’s seeing, he sucks in a sharp, painful breath that leaves him coughing. “Tim,” he says, once he finally feels able to. “That’s - “

“It’s not mine,” Tim says quietly, gaze intent as he watches Hideo. “Pikachu showed it to me. On my dad’s bathroom floor.”

Hideo stares at the bloodied yellow petal - one that belongs to a daffodil, if Hideo isn’t mistaken. One of the more common flowers seen in those suffering from Hanahaki, and if this came from Harry… He glances up, finds Tim watching him with a worried, shrewd gaze. “What do you want me to do with this information?” Hideo asks quietly, ignoring the way Snubbull is whining anxiously at his side, reaching out to lay a paw on the baggy. 

“Talk to my dad,” Tim says immediately. “You’re both being so _stupid_ about this, and I don’t know _why,_ but you can fix each other if you’d just _talk._ ”

“Tim, you know that Hanahaki can only be solved - “

“By the object of the afflicted affections accepting those affections, I know. And I know that _you’re_ the object of my dad’s affections, and he’s the object of yours. I don’t know why you haven’t talked about it before now, but if you don’t, then you’re both going to die, and I - “ He swallows, hard enough that Hideo can see the movement of his Adam’s apple. “I can’t lose my dad again. And I would, regardless of if he died first.”

Hideo rocks back in his chair, staring at Tim with his mouth hanging slightly open. “Tim - “

“Just… He’ll never say anything,” Tim says, quietly, and Hideo knows that it’s the truth. “So you have to.” He pushes himself to his feet, passes a hand over Cubone’s head, and turns towards the door.

Hideo finds his voice only when Tim’s hand finds the doorknob. “Tim!” When Tim looks at him questioningly, Hideo swallows, licks his lips in a nervous tic. “Tell Harry to come in here, please.”

Tim only smiles and nods, but Hideo’s heart still trips over the vines wrapped around it as he waits for Harry’s knock. He calls permission to enter, and Harry looks confused and _guarded_ when he steps through the door. “Tim said you - “

He freezes when he clocks the baggy on Hideo’s desk, and Hideo nods to the chair that Tim had recently vacated. “Sit down, Harry,” he says quietly. “I wanted to talk to you about something we should have discussed a long time ago.”

Harry’s movements are stiff as he approaches Hideo’s desk, settling into one of the chairs, and Hideo suddenly can’t sit behind his desk for this conversation. He moves around, takes the other chair. He and Harry haven’t sat this close since shortly after Harry’s miraculous return from the dead, and Hideo almost desperately wishes, suddenly, that it were under much better circumstances.

“What’s all this about, Hideo?” Harry asks, his voice flat, nearly toneless. 

“It’s about what your Pokemon showed Tim on your bathroom floor, and that he brought to my attention,” Hideo says, reaching out to pull the baggy closer to him. “A bloody daffodil petal. Did you flush the rest?”

Heat colors Harry’s cheeks, and he gives Hideo a glare that seems to be lacking something. “That’s none of your business, Hideo, if _yours_ isn’t any of mine.”

“The thing is… Daffodils stand for unrequited love,” Hideo says, forcing himself to push forward as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “And Tim thinks that we can save each other.” Harry freezes, then, staring at Hideo. 

“Wh - Save _each other?_ ” he chokes out. 

“Yes.” Hideo takes a deep breath, mindful of the thorns in his lungs. “You know I have been suffering from Hanahaki for years, now. Since shortly after you transferred to the city.” Harry nods, and Hideo kind of resents the fact that he can’t read Harry as easily as he used to - but he’s got only himself to blame. “I suspect it stayed in the first stage for so long because the man I fell for wasn’t ready to love again. But when he was, it started progressing. It stopped, for about a week, when he died.”

Harry sucks in a breath so sharp it makes him cough; Hideo hands him a tissue when his hand flies up to cover his mouth, and Harry takes it with a brief nod. Familiar with the hacking sounds of a flower leaving his throat, Hideo feels his own twinge in sympathy when Harry finally finishes, the tissue spotted with red and another yellow flower. Hideo waits as Harry collects himself, waits until Harry finally says, “ _Me?_ ”

“You,” Hideo confirms, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s been you for years, Harry.”

Harry stares at him for another moment before finally bursting out, “And you couldn’t _fucking tell me?_ Even after I came back from the dead?”

“I meant it when I said the man I loved deserved better than me, Harry,” Hideo says, trying to make Harry understand. “I’m not - “

“If you say ‘a good romantic partner’ or some other similar bullshit, I’m going to kick you,” Harry informs him. Hideo closes his mouth, lips twitching.

“Oh?”

“I’m serious. You’re - Shit, Hideo. You’re older than me, yeah, but it’s not like I’m a damn party animal! I like nights in watching old detective movies more than I like going out for anything except coffee. You know that.”

“Your family - “

Harry’s lips twist into a grimace. “I loved Elaine. Still do, in a way. But it’s been almost a decade, and she never would have wanted me to stay alone for the rest of my life, Hideo. And Tim clearly approves, if he’s being a meddling little shit about this.”

Hideo feels his lips twitch, and for the first time in months, the pressure around his heart eases, just slightly. “And if Tim approves…”

“I’ve had the most _ridiculous_ crush on you for the past two years,” Harry says, and Hideo abruptly feels like dancing. “Honestly, it’s been a little embarrassing. All the other detectives have a fucking _betting pool_ going on about us.”

Hideo laughs, the sound easy for the first time in years. “Yes, I’d heard something about that,” he says, tone wry. “But I - I’m technically your superior, Harry. Even if I thought you might accept my feelings, nevermind return them, I _couldn’t_ say anything. You know the rules of fraternization.”

“I do, but _you_ know that there’s an exception if Hanahaki is involved,” Harry returns. “And there was that new clause stating that if mutual Hanahaki was suffered, there was no problem at all.”

Hideo snorts, lips twitching. “And is it? Mutual?”

Harry sighs, his gaze dropping for a moment before he looks back up. The sheer _honesty_ on his expression takes Hideo’s breath away as he whispers, “Yes.”

It takes a moment for Hideo to get his bearings back, and then he shifts in his chair until his knee bumps Harry’s. “Well, that’s - good. Tim’s right, then.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, shifting closer, prolonging the contact. “About what?”

“Us saving each other.”

Watching the slow smile take over Harry’s expression is like watching the sun rise, and Hideo has to remind himself to breathe. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“Well, I really hope so,” Hideo laughs, reaching out until he can just barely touch Harry’s hand - and he feels his cheeks heat when Harry immediately flips his hand, taking Hideo’s in his. “I love you, Harry Goodman. Even when your caffeine addiction reaches crippling levels.”

Harry laughs, bright and loud, and grins at Hideo. “I love you, too, Hideo Yoshida. Even when you’re being a stupid, self-sacrificing moron.”

“Does the self-sacrificing moron get a kiss?” Hideo asks, surprising himself and Harry. 

Harry’s grin widens. “Depends. Is he going to _keep_ being self-sacrificing, or is he going to take the man he loves out on a date?”

“Will the man he loves make him wait until _after_ the date for a kiss?” Hideo retorts, though he’s smiling far too widely for there to be any heat in his words. 

“Of course not,” Harry laughs. “So long as there _is_ a date.”

“As many as you want,” Hideo promises, smiling as he leans in to meet Harry’s lips with his own. 


End file.
